Marlene was sexy as hell and a real girl and dressed like a stripper, she said she was a ‘nurse’s aid’ but I thought that was bullshit. And I was right.

Anyway she got to talking and it was the usual stuff straight girls who are curious about trannies talk about. It was all ‘where did you get your shoes’ and ‘where do you shop’ and what lipstick is that. The usual banal small talk. Tranny’s are suckers for compliments. Remember that, it could be useful information.

Then she started buying the dinks and after a few cosmopolitans it was all ‘you have great legs’ and ‘I wish I had a figure like’ that and ‘I wish I was that tall’ and ‘you have a great ass’ and I could tell where this was going.

The question was did I want to go there?

After a few more drinks the conversation started to get interesting.

 I was figuring what the hell, I mean if I was a straight guy I’d want to do her and then there was the buzz of the co** and the drinks and the music and she made me feel gorgeous and she was warm and I was freezing and I’m a slut, so what the hell do you expect me to do?

I’m not gay, or whatever, I mean I’m not into girls but get me drunk and high enough and I’m like ‘whatever’ and I was and so I thought ‘why not?’

So we started making out. Which was probably not a good idea in the middle of the Taxi Club but if I worried about what people in the Taxi Club thought of me I’d be an idiot. Maybe it was good for my reputation to be seen making out with a stripper in the smoking room or maybe it just made me look like a cheap drunk tranny slut, but as I said I don’t care.

So an hour later we’re at my place and naked and fooling around and I’m enjoying it. Which really took me by surprise.

Is this what a $500 hooker does to a guy? Is this what it’s like to be a guy? So weird. So many questions. Its ahead fu**.

Rewind for a second... ok, I think I’m bi-sexual.

I‘ve fooled around with girls a bit and it’s been fun, usually some guy’s watching or paying to watch what’s going on so there’s an audience and it’s usually part of a game – you know, a tranny and a girl making out but it’s the guy we’re really both interested in doing and the faux lesbian thing is just a game to raise the temperature of the room. So I’ve gone there, a lot. But tonight I went there because of her.

It’s like a straight man’s fantasy, but there's no straight man in the room. Just me and this stripper chick and a bottle of wine and all the time in the world.

So we get to talking, serious talking, about who we are and the stuff you talk about after sex and I learned that she’s a hooker. Not a regular hooker, but an expensive one. Trust me, I can tell, I’ve seen a lot of hookers, and to look at Marlene you know she’s up the pay scale. I believed her.

Plus I know what things cost. I have a professional interest.

So there you go.

It was kind of a compliment if you know what I mean. There’s this expensive hooker and she’s doing me for free and telling me she wants to do it again and I know she will because we’re both sluts and this was fun.

I’m also terribly cripplingly insecure – so this wall all fabulous for my fragile tranny ego which need a painful amount of reassurance about how attractive I am. I hate that and confessed that to her as well. She gives me this big smile and says ‘I know honey’.

But that’s trannies for you. We have sex, not because we actually like the guy, but because we want to fee attractive. We need to know. We’ve got problems. Well, I do at least.

But Marlene. Was she playing me? Does she know this about me? And was knowing this and working my insecurity her game plan for getting me naked.

Do I even really care? I don’t know. Ask me when I’m not hung over.

So now its three days later and I’m still thinking about her and wanting to call her but won’t because that would be too easy.

She will call me.

Anyway, so I’m thinking about it and asking myself what the fu** is going on?

Why is everything so complicated.

Am I really bisexual or is this all part of my insecurity? Is it?  Let me know and I’ll owe you a drink.

X

Lavinia.

(download)

Click here to download:

a-stripper-too-much-to-drink-and-a-lot-of-insecurity-going-on-arvudyJiaxbbJcpgasuE.zip (6.55 MB)

Christie was so high that just being in possession of her blood sample would count as possession in 49 states. In Saudi Arabia you could be stoned to death.

She was naked on the bed when, let’s call him ‘Yuri’, pulled out his iPhone and started taking photographs of her. She went ballistic and started throwing anything she could get at him ‘put that f******thing away or I’ll f****** kill you she was screaming. He didn’t so she tried.

Christies has always had strong views about intellectual property law.

The bed side lamp hit the wall with this god-awful crash and then the book beside the bed – a crap book ’the Road Less Travelled’ by M Scott Peck (is that ironic, it has to be ironic right) the book connected with the IPhone and it went clattering to the floor. It skittered across the room and I grabbed it and threw it out the window, or at least tried, I missed and it hit the window which cracked and the phone dropped to the floor.

I love to see things get smashed up. Christies loves to smash thing s up, we have common interests, it makes for a good relationship.

Yuri started screaming, like the coke in his brain had started to boil his blood, I have no idea what he  was saying, it was all in Russian , I  could make out every fifth word (which was ‘slut’), he was one angry cossack.

He lunged for his phone and Christie was throwing anything she could reach at him, pillow, the other lamp a glass of water, there was all this random bedside shit raining down on him.

A pillow split open and little bits of foam rubber rained down on the room, it was like being inside a cheap Chinese snow dome, Carla started laughing her little coked out head off, Yuri was screaming, it was fuc***** crazy.

Christie is so nuts, as soon as Carla started laughing she did to, there she was hurling random bedroom shit at Yuri and screaming and laughing her naked body being coated with little yellow crumbs of foam from the pillow. Yuri was totally freaked out.

He managed to grab his shattered iPhone and then started looking for his pants still screaming ‘помешаться’ fu***** Russian.

Pants on, he started his next mission.

Somewhere in the room was about a gram and a half in a plastic baggie that belonged to him and he was now looking for it. Carla, the enterprising opportunist, had taken advantage of the chaos slipping both the coke and $375 from his wallet into her handbag, we didn’t know it at the time, we only found out in the taxi – Yuri didn’t have a clue or a chance.

He was such a push over – you can imagine him being really scary, all those f*** off tattoos and shit but there were three of us and one of him, so all he could do was scream and try get his pants on before some neighbour called the police.

Russian coke freak caught without pants in sleazy motel with three transsexuals – try defend that in front of a judge when you have prison tattoos on your neck and Russian accent.

He scrambled around on the floor for maybe a couple of minutes to get to his shoes on while Christie kept hurling shit at him, it was hilarious the poor dumb bastard, you do not mess with Christie.

It was nuts, you have no idea how crazy it all felt, this mad rush of drugs and screaming and vodka and heat, it was like the whole place was melting like burning plastic and all you could hear was this crashing and smashing and cursing in Russian and Christies screaming and laughing like the devil.

In the Taxi Carla split the money three ways, you have to love her, she should have kept the cash, we didn’t; know she’d grabbed it. But she’s not like that, none of us are, she’s a nice girl, we all are really.

These photos are the last of us on the night before I got too drunk, they are out of focus, I was out of focus. I still have a hangover two days later.

I really need to clean up my act.

X

Lavinia

(download)

Click here to download:

the-russian-drug-lord-the-iphone-and-the-transsexual-with-an-interest-in-intelelctual-property-qtuocllgtvdrmtDmqHgB.zip (6.24 MB)

*Or: the straight guy’s guide to dating a transsexual woman.

It’s like all the blood is being directed elsewhere. It’s understandable.

Even the smartest most charming of men can struggle to string a sentence together. And often when they do, they say all the wrong things. Awkward, embarrassing things – they can be deal breakers.

It can be hard.  But the talking part shouldn’t be the hard part.

It’s why I’m going to make this very, very simple.

This is a guide as to what not to say to a transsexual girl. Not only will I be helping you hook up, I’ll be helping every transsexual out there who is tired of hearing the same things over and over again.

So, here’s the first rule: take time and Think carefully before you say a thing, you can blow the whole deal with the opening line. But you know this already.

If needed, you can buy time by winking suggestively and smiling first, it will give you the few seconds needed to remember the short list of guidelines that follow. Besides, a sexy wink and a nice smile is always a good opening gambit, no matter who you’re hitting on.

If you get lucky with a tranny after reading this you owe me. Seriously, I’m improving your chances no end. You’re going to want to thank me for this. You can start by buying me a drink.

Love

X

Lavinia Sonderberg Beck

1. “Are they real?”

I figure that if I can answer this question for you now, you’ll never have to ask a tranny, it’s going to save you a lot of embarrassment and rejection, so here it is:

No.

Very little about us is real. Our names our hair colour, our tans our eyelashes, you name it.

What does it really matter? What is real anyway? This is also a philosophical question, but there’s no way I’m getting into to that.

A lot of things about us are not real – but real enough. That’s all you need to know, the rest you can find out for yourself.

2. “I’m straight you know...”

For the record:

Men who like trannies are not gay.

I’m not gay either. Trannies are not gay.

I only like straight men.

Gay men are gay. That’s why they’re called ‘gay men’.

Gay men are most definitely not into trannies. And we are not into them.

When you say things like, “I’m straight you know...”, or “I’m not gay...” it’s like a confession of insecurity. Don’t be insecure, it’s ok. Everything is fine.

You are straight. We know that or you wouldn’t be interested in us. We’re glad that you are straight; you don’t need us to validate anything. It’s not something we really want to do.

I hope I’ve cleared all this up.

3. “I’ve never been with a tranny before...”

We don’t want to know this. It’s like confessing that you have no idea what you are doing. It’s not particularity encouraging.

If it is your first time, relax; don’t make a big deal out of it. You’re a guy, you’ll figure out what to do.

4. “How big is your!@#* ?”

If a man starts off a conversation along these lines it means one thing: he’s basically telling you he thinks you’re a slut.

Think about it this way, would he have asked a nice girl that question? Maybe not that particular question, but you know what I mean – such a direct personal, intimae and sexual question? No.

I’ve met so many men that will hit on me, tell me how ‘not gay’ they are, and then ask how big my !@#* is.

For my money, it counts as two strikes.

Besides being low rent, it’s like confessing that you are a selfish lover. It’s an admission that you’re fixated on your fantasy and not on the lovely transsexual girl sitting next to you.

5. “Can you still get it up?”

Strike three.

Refer to the answer for the previous question.

6. “I’m (insert number) inches”

Good for you.

While it’s nice to know, we’ll ask when we want to know. It’s also vulgar. Vulgar is a turn off.

Also, if you’re relying on the size of the thing to close the deal think again. Yes, it’s good that you’re a big boy, but frankly, it’s not a dealmaker.

And you know what they say ‘... it’s what you do with it’.

Playing the ‘big’ card early in the piece is like placing all your cards on the table.

It’s like saying ‘I can’t offer you much in the way of charm, company or conversations, but I do have this big thing down here...’

There’s a time and a place for this kind of information, if we want to know, we’ll find out.

7. “Did you really used to be a guy?”

It’s also a self evidently stupid question. And you don’t want to look stupid right?

This is also one of those metaphysical questions. You could say transsexuals are born transsexual; we’ve always been transsexual, that’s who and what we are. So the answer is ‘no’.

But the answer, by another definition is also yes. So unless you want to have a philosophical question and unless you’ve got a brain like John Raulston Saul or Alain de Botton, it’s a discussion I’m not interested in having.

8. “How long have you been a tranny?”

You can refer to the answer above for this. The answer is the same.

Also, what does it matter? It’s intrusive and unnecessary and you really want to avoid awkward moments with us.

9. “Have you had the operation?”

Asking this is not the ideal way to find out; this is like confessing that you are a selfish lover. It’s an admission that you’re fixated on your fantasy and not on the lovely transsexual girl sitting next to you.

If you want an answer to this, the best strategy is to be charming and buy the drinks, you’ll find out for yourself.

10. “Can we go to your place?”

This is like confessing you have a wife and three kid’s home waiting for you. Or a girlfriend who has no idea what you really fantasise about. Or that you live with your parents. It can mean many things.

None of these things are good things.

11. “Are you working?”

Asking this is like telling a girl that she looks like a prostitute. This is never considered a compliment. Even if it is true.

Most transsexuals are not, it’s a mistake to associate being a transsexual with being promiscuous or being a prostitute, we’re mostly just regular girls looking to have a nice time.

If there is price negotiation to be had, you’ll find out.

One simple rule

When it comes to hooking up with a transsexual girl I can make this really simple for you, I have one piece of advice that will help nearly every time, and it’s this:

Treat us the same way you’d treat any other girl.

It’s that simple, if you wouldn’t say it to a girl; don’t say it to a tranny.

Because that’s what we are, we’re just girls. And we are as easy to hurt and offend as any other girl. Be gentle, patient, kind and respectful and we will like you for that.

That’s it...

One day soon you’ll be at a bar or a  club and you’ll see the most amazing transsexual girl. She will be stunning. Everything you’ve ever dreamed of.

Before you race over there  and say anything stupid, you’ll take a nice deep breath, flash her winning smile, wink playfully, and remember everything I’ve told you.

And you will have a lovely time.

And if you’re really, really lucky, that girl will be me.

And if it is, remember, you owe me a drink.

Good luck.

Love

X

Lavinia

Thank you

If this was useful, you could do me a favour. Re-post it, forward the link, cut and paste it, re-publish it, anything is fine by me; you have my permission, just as long as you credit me and publish my e-mail address. It’s just that I’m trying to get a book deal and being just a little bit famous may help, or so I’m told.

You can also find me here:

E-mail: laviniadarling@gmail.com

Twitter: @darlinglavinia

YouTube: www.youtube.com/user/laviniadarling?feature=mhum

Thanks again

X

Lavinia Sonderberg Beck

Sydney, September 2010.

(download)

Click here to download:

Ten_things_you_should_never_sa.zip (44 KB)

Beside lipstick and a suntan I wasn’t wearing very much.

And what I did wear, you could see through.

I liked the idea that I was going out looking like I’d just jumped out of a cake at a buck’s party.

I look a lot at strippers, hookers and pornography and know what kind of girls men fantasize about. And that’s what I try to look like; I try to look like a man’s fantasy.

I want to look like the kind of girl men fantasize about. I really do like to dress like a guy’s wet dream.

My plan for sleaze was, as usual, to figure out how little I could wear without getting arrested – then accessorize – I chose a whip and a pair of handcuffs. Which came in pretty useful later that night when ‘Peter’ insisted that he’d been ‘very naughty’ and deserved to be punished. I obliged. I like to help.

Not that Peter’s line was particularly original; I’ve heard the exact same line used on me maybe 20 times. But Peter offered me a pill for my trouble, and as I said, I do genuinely like to help if I can.

It’s really interesting to be me sometimes.

I’m always amazed by what people will give me in exchange for a little attention; drugs, money, drinks, transport… as I’ve said many times, god only knows how much I could make if I was a real prostitute.

Actually, I know the answer to this. But I don’t want to get into details.

The more over the top I go with my ‘look’, the more this happens. It’s much more interesting for me to go out looking like a transsexual prostitute than it is going out looking like a real girl.

I think going out dressed like a showgirl send s a message, one that encourages men to be ‘up front’, if you know what I mean. And I like that.

It’s just that I get lied to a lot. Guys will tell you anything; promise you anything to get into your pants. Lots of sweet talk and empty promises and I know it’s all lies. When you look like a hooker they cut to the chase.

And if I can’t find a real relationship with a nice guy, which is what I really want, at least this way I know where I stand and get to have uncomplicated fun. So in a way, looking like a tramp is more honest. No one has to pretend that this is going to go anywhere.

It used to be difficult sometimes, some guy would come up to me and be all sweet and charming and then figure out that I really used to be a guy and freak out and it was all weird and awkward. This doesn’t happen when I look like a transsexual prostitute.

I’m not trying to justify being promiscuous or anything. I’m not even really trying to justify looking like a call girl. It’s fun. I enjoy it and I think that’s justification enough. I mean, does it really matter?

There’s another thing about dressing up like a prostitute that I like.

I like looking like someone else – I like dressing up as a man’s fantasy. I like being a man’s fantasy.

When I dress up as hooker I usually put on a wig, if you’ve seen me you know that my hair is dark brown and shoulder length and slightly wavy, I have normal ‘girl’ hair, boring. But my wigs, they’re a different thing all together. I’ve got dead straight jet black wigs with hair down to my waist. I’ve got big messy ‘bed hair’ wigs, platinum blonde curly wigs; I love them because when I wear them I don’t look like me.

Combine this with a tonne of makeup, fake eyelashes and everything else I do and there’s no way you’d recognize me.

I look in the mirror and I look like some exotic stranger – a fantasy. Some guy’s wet dream.

It’s like wearing a disguise. So when people see this hooker standing by the side of the road in a pink g-string, they don’t know it’s me, if you know what I mean. I’m not me, I’m some hooker standing by the side of a road waiting for a cab. I’m not Lavinia. I’m someone else.

So really, it’s easy to get out of the house looking like this. It’s easy because it’s not me people are seeing, it’s just some fantasy I’ve put together. It really doesn’t mean anything.

There’s another thing about looking this way that I really like.

I like the power of it. This might sound weird. But there really is power in it.

It’s not ‘big’ power, but sexual power is real power. Men will do pretty much whatever I want if they think it will get them what they want. Drinks, drugs, money; anything. Not for long, but for a few hours at least they are mine. I fucking love it. Don’t get me wrong. I don’t abuse it, I don’t just take and take. If I accept anything from a guy I make sure he knows the deal. I don’t promise anything. I don’t lead people on. I lay out the deal and if they take it, they take it, if not, I’m cool with it. Whatever I take is only what they are happy to give. No one gets hurt. Men want me to be their fantasy. And sometimes I’m happy to be that fantasy.

I’ve thought about this a lot. I don't think it makes me a bad person. Am I?

I really don’t want men to like me. I just want them to want me.

Even when I did go out looking like a real girl I’d go out looking for trouble.

Nowadays I go out looking like trouble. It’s all part of the plan.

Actually, it is the plan. It’s the only plan I have.

It’s so much more fun looking like trouble. It’s also less work – people find you.

My Sleaze Ball fun started before I even arrived at the party.

There I was, wearing a see through lace corset, a black g-string with a pink lace bow at the front, 8 inch heels and clutching a whip standing on the side of the busy main road in front of my apartment waiting for a taxi.

Within 2 minutes a car had pulled over and some nice young man was offering a ride ‘anywhere I wanted to go’, not being crazy I declined. Two minutes later it happened again. Two minutes later some guy was asking e ‘how much’. Cars were slowing down to look. Men driving their girlfriends home were pretending not to look – I can tell.

I was creating a traffic jam.

I know, this was probably dangerous, but I figured it was in front of my building and there were plenty of people around. I just wanted to see what kind of a scene I could create. You know how much I love attention.

No wonder I have so much trouble in relationships.

Maybe it’s where I’m looking.

Maybe it’s how I’m looking.

Maybe it’s just me.

X

Lavinia

(download)

Click here to download:

Sleaze_Ball_looking_like_a_str.zip (1.07 MB)

‘Busty babes in tiny bikinis’, lesbians exchanging sensual kisses,
women with 44DD busts in skin tight dresses touching each others lycra
clad breasts: you have to love YouTube, you can find nearly everything
there.

Except for some photographs of me – YouTube have just disabled three
of the videos that I put together as a self promotion because they
breached the ‘community guidelines’.

As an aspiring writer and author trying to get a book deal in a
competitive market I’ll use whatever I can to get attention. In my
case it’s my ass and YouTube.

My breach of the ‘community guidelines’- I can’t tell you what it is,
they haven’t told me. And under the ‘terms of use’ they don’t have to.

I have my suspicions as to why. In the videos were a few provocative
images of me, a couple with my panties around my legs and ankles –
I’ve attached a couple of the ‘offending’ images to this post. In them
I was wearing a second g-string, but the angle of the shot means you
can’t see them, so I wasn’t nude, it was just ‘suggested’ by the
image, see for yourself, the links are below.

I was telling another tranny friend about this, and she had another
theory; here it is: she thinks it’s because I’m a transsexual.

I kind of dismissed this at first, but when I thought a little more it
seemed to make some sense.

Women seem to be able to kiss and show their g-string clad arses and
scantily clad breasts and it seems to be fine with YouTube. But a
transsexual being just as provocative as a ‘real’ woman? Maybe they
don’t like that. Maybe they don’t know how to deal with that – and my
images are mild in comparison to what’s out there.

I hate to sound like a cranky, whining, trannny, complaining about
‘homophobia’ or whatever , I’m really not that kind of girl – but her
theory really makes sense, a lot of heterosexual men and women are
‘confronted’ , ‘uneasy’ or ‘intimidated’ by transexualism (if you know
what I mean). There’s a lot of discrimination out there. Maybe this is
the case here.

So perhaps they didn’t know how to deal with my images, so they
decided to disable them on the basis of some poorly defined ‘community
guidelines’. Have a look at the images and make up your own mind. Is
she right? Could it be homophobia (or whatever the transexual
equivalent is called) Maybe they do breach the ‘standards’ or maybe
she’s just a little ‘over sensitive’ about being a tranny, I really
don’t know – as I said, look at the images and judge for yourself.

You can bet that I wasn’t happy about being ‘disabled’ by YouTube, so
I didn’t leave it there. I’m such a trouble maker.

I’ve upped the stakes a little and posted a couple more videos that
really push the boundaries – just to see what happens.

One has me smearing whipped cream all over myself. The other has me in
the shower wearing nothing more than a red string bikini.

If you told me a week ago that I’d be making a video of me rubbing
whipped cream onto my belly to get my revenge upon YouTube I’d
politely ask if I could share what you had been taking… it’s
interesting really, can you actually make a point by rubbing whipped
cream onto your belly and wiggling provocatively? A nice warm shower
in a red bikini as revenge?

Take that YouTube.

God only knows how they’ll deal with those videos. You can check them
out by following these links if you like:

Watch them, better yet forward them. Make them a YouTube sensation –
success is always the best revenge, let’s see what they do when they
make the ‘most viewed today’ page. My bet is that they suddenly decide
that these videos also breach ‘community standards’.

Let’s just see what they do.

It drives me crazy. On-line ‘mainstream’ ‘communities’ and media can
be so conservative. This has happened to me before – Slide Share
deleted my account. Authonomy rejected my profile and my profile
image… the list goes on. It’s tedious. This is 2010 right?

I’d be interested to hear your stories on homophobia in digital
communities. Maybe it is real. Let me know if you have one, email me:
laviniadarling@gmail.com

Anyway, being even more provocative is my way of protesting. I’m not
sure what else to do. If you have any ideas let me know, I could do
with some advice as I’m not sure covering myself in whipped cream will
really prove anything to YouTube, (so I’m open to ideas) - I’m sure
the entire transsexual community would be grateful.

Any marketers, PR people, gay activists or digital people out there?

Hope to hear from you, let me know what you think.

Thanks

X

Lavinia Sonderberg-Beck
Sydney Australia

www.filthytrannywhore.com
laviniadarling@gmail.com
Twitter: @darlinglavinia

P.S. You’ll find YouTube’s e-mail to me below:

“Regarding your account: laviniadarling
The following video(s) from your account have been disabled for
violation of the YouTube Community Guidelines:

Intimate with me.wmv - (laviniadarling)

Your account has received one Community Guidelines warning strike,
which will expire in six months. Additional violations may result in
the temporary disabling of your ability to post content to YouTube
and/or the termination of your account.
Sincerely,

The YouTube Team”

(download)

Click here to download:

See_the_images_that_YouTube_ba.zip (431 KB)

As for the ballerina, the nurse and the airline stewardess - my
ambitions had a lot to do with the look; I wanted to dress like a
ballerina, a nurse or an airline stewardess – who dosnlt?

Mostly I really, really wanted to be a nurse. You got to be pretty and
do something important. If I couldn’t make the grade as a nurse, I
would have settled for being a receptionist in a medical centre. You
still got to wear the nice white uniform, but you got to wear high
heels too if you want. And you can do the job sitting down.

I couldn’t be a nurse, but at least I got halfway there – I got to be
a girl. But my ‘nurse’ dream never really left me.

Anyway, I’ve just got one unexpected step closer to my dream. Last
Tuesday, when I was rummaging at St Vinnie’s, I found this nurses
uniform, and bought it.

This week I took up the hem and took it in at the waist. It’s nice and
tight. Really tight. Probably too tight. And most definitely too
short. In fact I now look more like a nurse-o-gram than a medical
receptionist.

I quite like that.

I wear it with these white high heels and underneath I wear a white
corset, bra and suspenders. I like the contrast of the starched white
‘prim and proper’ exterior with the ‘Victoria’s Secret thing’
underneath. I’m not sure if that’s what real nurses and medical
receptionists have under their uniforms, but if I was a nurse or
medical receptionist you can bet that’s what I’d be wearing under my
uniform.

If you discount the fact that I’ve taken it in and up, the uniform
itself is very ‘sensible’. It makes me feel very ‘professional’, if
you know what I mean.

I’m really not sure where to wear the thing. I can’t exactly go out
during the day looking like a nurse-o-gram and it’s kind of hard to
wear it clubbing – I attract the wrong kinds of men as it is. Wearing
my nurse’s outfit, I can guess at the kind of attention I’d get - you
can imagine it, people with uniform fetishes and nurse fantasies. Or
medical conditions.

I like the idea of being in the medical profession. I have a good
bedside manner and accept all major credit cards.

Maybe being a mock nurse is my calling. I’m sure I’d be good at it. If
you need a mock nurse let me know.

My last childhood ambition was to be a weather girl. The idea dawned
upon me when I was about 15. You got to be pretty, stand around in
high heels and a short skirt; people listened to you and got to be on
TV. My ambition hasn’t changed much since then.

I’d love to be a weather girl. I’d be great at it. And unlike the
weather girls on TV I could promise you a lovely day, every day.

X

Lavinia

(download)

Click here to download:

A_ballerina_a_nurse_an_airline.zip (92 KB)

I was rolling around in bed pouting and wiggling during one of those
‘adult’ web-cam things and decided to snap a few photographs of myself
at the same time.

So, this is what I look like when I’m on-line. Grainy, blurry, fuzzy
and under-dressed. I have to learn to keep my clothes on – or at
least dress warm.

I also realised that I don’t take photographs of myself – this is it,
this is all there is. I’ll have to do better than this.

I need a theme for them, you know, where I get to dress up as a bunny
or in a uniform or costume or something – any ideas?

Let me know and I’ll make a self portrait my next rainy day activity.

X

Lavinia.

(download)

Click here to download:

My_web-cam_photos.zip (284 KB)

Ok, two days ago I tweeted this:

“Latest: Have dinner with me! to finance my career as a writer I'm selling 3 dinner dates with
me! Hungry? Let me know: www.filthytrannywhore.com ”

I’ve sold one – yippee.

However that still leaves Friday and Sunday nights – so you want to go to dinner?

Seriously, I need to quit my job. I’ll never become Australia’s most
famous living transsexual author if I’m stuck in an office three days
a week doing research for some corporation that thinks I’m a
‘novelty’. You should meet these people, they are tedious. My job is
seriously boring. Only a series of dinner dates can save me – so how
about it?

On another note one kind gentleman (thank you ‘pantsman54’) has
offered me money in exchange for smutty photographs and dirty e-mail
correspondence.

I’ve thought seriously about this and decided it’s a good idea. What
do you think? Are you interested too?

I know this must make me sound like a trashy whore, maybe I am, but I
promise to be tasteful. Unless you want me to be a trashy whore, I
don’t really mind. As long as it keeps me out of the stupid office.

For chrissakes, my job is so dull. Really, Roy Morgan Values Segment
data and media typology – pleeeeease, spare me. I really don’t care
what women 45 to 55 are reading (NW and Women’s Weekly still score
over Index, can you believe that?). Yet this is what I have to find
out. Think about it, is this what Australia’s first transsexual
superstar author should be doing to make money? I think not.

What I should be doing is e-mailing you semi pornographic photographs
of myself wearing Hello Kitty underwear and talking about how I can
relive your ‘stress’, or sitting down in a nice restaurant over a
bottle of Chablis giving you a hard on as I talk about my Hello Kitty
underwear.

Where the hell would I be without Hello Kitty?

Ok, help!

For a dinner date or a pornographic e-mail relationship you know where
to find me!

Love and kisses and Hello Kitty.

X

Lavinia.